


Time May Change Me

by moeexyz



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fix-It of Sorts, M/M, Post-lawsuit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2019-01-21 14:42:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12459918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moeexyz/pseuds/moeexyz
Summary: Mark finds a video he made for himself.Originally uploaded to LJ in 2012.





	Time May Change Me

Mark finds the file when he's clearing out space on his laptop. He doesn't know what it is at first. He knows it's a video, and it's dated from years back, but he doesn't know why it's sitting in his files. He has half a mind to delete it, since he needs the space, but he figures he should probably see what it is first.

He clicks the file, and waits.

When his own face comes up, Mark knows what this is. He vaguely remembers filming it at some late hour of the night, while everyone else was working. He doesn't remember what he said, and, well, that's the point isn't it? He wouldn't have had to film it if he thought he would remember.

“Hello … Future Mark,” His past self says on the screen. He's younger, obviously. He hasn't grown into himself quite as much as Mark has. His hair hasn't changed a lot over the years. It's shorter now, but Mark recently got it cut. Past Mark has dark bags under his eyes, like he hasn't slept in years. And he's skinnier. Mark kind of wants to give him a sandwich.

He's sitting in his old bedroom in the house in Palo Alto. In the corner of the screen, behind Mark, there's a window. It's dark outside, just like Mark remembers it being when decided to film this.

Past Mark nods to himself, absently, and bites his lip. “This must be strange for you. It's strange for me too, but then again, I'm not the one watching myself speak.” He clears his throat, anxiously. “I wanted to make this because Facebook is growing more and more every day, and I know it's going to become something great. It has to. And I guess just want to remember this,” He says gesturing to the room.

“I suppose I'm a little sentimental, but you're me so – so are you.” He shrugs. “And I haven't slept in … a while, so it could be that.”

Past Mark pauses, unsure of what to say next. His eyes move around the room, looking for inspiration. This, Mark remembers. The video was a spur of the moment thing, he hadn't exactly gone in with a plan. He's sure there's many more moments of him floundering for something to say. Besides, it's not like Mark was ever a conversational person, it was twice as bad with a one-sided conversation.

Past Mark nods again, like he's finally decided what to say. “I'm not going to waste time telling you about our family, because let's face it, if you wanted to know you'd ask them yourself. And I haven't, and I'm you, so obviously you don't want to know.”

Mark smirks at the video.

“I guess we'll start with--” Past Mark gets interrupted but a crashing sound coming from somewhere else in the house. He halts and half-turns to look at his door expectantly.

An equally red-headed and far more baby-faced Dustin sticks his head in. “Everything's fine,” He says, quickly and pops out again. Mark moves back towards the camera, but Dustin pops in again.

“What are you doing?”

“Aren't you supposed to be wired in?” Mark asks.

“No,” Dustin blatantly lies, before popping out again with a caught expression this time.

Mark looks back at the camera again, smiling this time. “You may remember Dustin,” He says, like he knows he's definitely never getting rid of Dustin.

Mark almost wants to find Dustin and share this with him, but thinks better of it. If Dustin finds out Mark left a video for himself he'll, never live it down. Or worse – knowing Dustin, he'll probably be inspired to build a time capsule or something.

“Dustin's been helping you out, but you know that already,” Past Mark continues. “I hope you know how valuable he is. Facebook wouldn't be Facebook without him. I know he acts like an idiot, but he is really smart. Make sure you remember that.” He makes an expression like he's suddenly realized what he just said. “Also, never tell him that,” He adds with a fond smirk.

“Anyway, what I was going to say is that Facebook must be huge in your time,” He says.

Mark feels a swell of pride. He thinks, _you have no idea, kid._ He looks around his office for a moment, like he can somehow communicate to his past self that this is what he's working towards. He'll make it, and his creation will become one of the most important things of his generation. This scruffy, sleep-deprived kid on the screen honestly can't even begin imagine what he's really in for.

Past Mark carries on, unaware of what he is doing to his Future self.

“Sean has _lots_ of contacts,” Past Mark says. That makes Mark freeze in his seat. “With him by your side, there's no way Facebook can fail. I hope you've kept him around by the way, because Sean is exactly what you need. He knows what he's doing. And he – he gets it. He understands Facebook the way you understand it.”

Mark pauses the video. He feels something heavy inside him. He feels conflicted. Sean understood Facebook, that was always true, but he wasn't …

Mark sighs. Sean did drugs back then too. Mark remembers the little bags of colourful pills, and the weed. It wasn't a secret. He knew back then, he was just too young and mesmerized with the Parker charm to think it was a bad thing. He'd find it hilarious in hindsight if it hadn't been such a burden to get Sean out of trouble time and time again.

_With him by your side there's no way Facebook can fail. Sean is exactly what you need._

Mark swallows. He was nineteen years old. He was allowed to be wrong.

He presses play again, letting Past Mark break the overwhelming silence of his office.

“And just ignore whatever Wardo says about it,” Past Mark says, rolling his eyes. And Mark hits pause again because _oh boy,_ he is not ready for that.

His nineteen year old self is frozen on the screen mid eyeroll. It's almost funny, except it's not because he's rolling his eyes at Eduardo, at Eduardo's incessant warnings that Sean was bad news.

Mark feels angry all of a sudden. He wants to shake his past self. He wants to tell him what an idiot he is. He wants to say, “Wardo's right, you ungrateful asshole.” And make him call Eduardo, and make him--

He can't do any of that.

He thinks maybe he should stop. His past self is talking about Eduardo. Eduardo who is still his past self's best friend. Eduardo who Mark hasn't spoken to in a very long time.

Watching this video won't do him any good.

He presses play.

“He doesn't get Sean. He's just …” Mark trails off. “And he keeps nagging me about ads, even though I've told him a million times that we don't _need_ ads. Ads would ruin what we already have and what we have is--” He cuts himself off, taking a calming breath. “What would he know anyway? _He's in New York._ ”

He averts his eyes from the webcam and bites at the inside of his cheek. He's bitter. Mark knows because he still thinks about it sometimes and still feels it, that overwhelming, empty sensation in the back of his mind that says _Wardo's not here._

“It never goes away,” He tells the screen.

“I know he has an internship, but this is important. Facebook is growing every day and it needs a CFO. He needs to be _here_ … with Facebook,” Past Mark says bitterly, still not looking at the webcam, like he can't even bare to make eye-contact with himself.

Mark feels a tightness in his chest. He remembers this part of the video. He remembers it because the raw feeling inside himself is still there, exactly the same. He knows what's coming, but he lets it keep playing, anyway. He wants to hear this.

“Instead he's out there. With Christy,” Mark says. It's quiet and defeated. He swallows and nods with purpose.

“You have to tell him,” He says, finally looking at the screen. His eyes bore into Mark, sharp and bright. Mark wonders if other people feel this uneasy under that stare.

“ _I_ have to tell him,” He corrects himself. “I need him here with me. I – I have to tell him how I feel.” He hesitates, biting his lip. “And if I don't do it, then you have to,” He says, nodding at the webcam.

Mark doesn't know what to do with that. He looks away, unable to take his own determined stare anymore.

“I have to tell him that … I care about him. And I want him with me through all of this. And he's important, not just to Facebook, but to me. He needs to know how much he means to me.”

Mark looks to the screen again. His younger self is looking somewhere to the right of the screen, like he's thinking.

He shakes it off with a shrug. “You know all about that anyway. If I've told him then he's probably with you, making you sandwiches and telling you you can't live off Red Bull.” He smiles fondly. “You should show him this. I bet he'll get all sappy about it.”

Mark thinks he might throw up.

“He's coming to Palo Alto soon,” Past Mark says. He's says it nonchalantly, like he doesn't want his future self to know how badly he's been waiting for that day. “I think I'll tell him.” He looks to the webcam again, with a smirk. “Let me know how it's going to go,” He jokes.

How it went was _I want-- I want-- I need you._ And _I'm afraid if you don't come out here you're going to get left behind._ And frozen accounts. And--

There's another crash in the video, much louder than the first. Mark, on the screen, frowns and waits.

“Everything's fine!” Dustin shouts at the same time as an intern shouts, “Oh my god! Are you bleeding?”

“Mark, come look at this!” Sean calls with amusement.

“Mark, _don't_ come out here!” Dustin yells.

Mark lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Forget that thing I said about Dustin being smart,” He says with a smirk. He waves awkwardly at the camera. “I guess I'll be seeing you. Or … you'll be seeing me.” And the video ends.

Mark sits in his chair, staring at the screen for a long time. He feels emotionally exhausted. His heart is hammering in his ribcage, full of things he'd forgotten he could feel.

He was going to tell Eduardo. He forgot about that. It was important but it got lost in a flurry of frozen accounts and diluted shares. And then there was no point.

 _If I don't do it, then you have to,_ he'd said.

It's not like he has to do it just because his younger self said so. Past Mark doesn't have the knowledge of Future Mark. He doesn't understand how much things have changed. It's not like he can just call Eduardo up and say, “I have to tell you how much you mean to me because my past self chickened out several years ago.”

Except that that's exactly what he does.

“Mark?” Eduardo says with confusion, because Mark blurted everything out before Eduardo could get a word in. Then, “Wait, what?”

“I found a video. I made it, that summer you were in New York and I was in Palo Alto.”

Eduardo sighs. “Do you know what time it is here?”

Mark stills. “I didn't really think this through,” He admits.

“Really?” Eduardo bites out. It comes out rough and bitter. Eduardo doesn't seem to be going for anger because he asks, guiltily, “What about a video?”

“It was a message to my future self, meaning present me.”

“Okay,” Eduardo says patiently. Mark almost wants to thank him for bearing with him. This is the most they've said to each other in years that isn't just smalltalk, and Mark isn't even making sense.

“It's just me talking about stuff. Facebook, Dustin, Sean … You.”

There's a moment of silence, and then Eduardo says, tentatively, “Okay.”

“I told myself that I was going to tell you how much you mean to me, but I guess I never did.”

“So you're telling me now?”

“Yes. It was requested of me,” Mark says simply.

“Well, if you're gonna do anyone a favour of course you'd pick yourself,” Eduardo quips.

“Are you listening to me?” Mark asks, exasperated.

“Yes, you were telling me how much I meant to you,” Eduardo snaps.

“Not meant. _Mean._ How much you mean to me.” 

That shuts Eduardo up. Mark only knows he hasn't hung up because he can still hear Eduardo's shaky breath on the other end of the line. “Mark,” He says, tired. Only Eduardo can make his name sounds like a loaded statement.

“Eduardo,” Mark says, for symmetry.

“You should have said something, back then.”

“My nineteen year old self was an idiot,” Mark replies.

“Oh, I know,” Eduardo says with a soft chuckle. “But … we were both idiots.”

“We made Facebook,” Mark reasons.

“Lucky idiots,” Eduardo amends. He doesn't sound angry anymore. He sounds fond.

Mark smiles. “He didn't deserve you. Past me, that is.”

Eduardo doesn't respond. Silence stretches out between them. Only slightly uncomfortable, and extremely heavy.

“Wardo?” Mark asks, winces at the nickname he's not sure he should use.

“Hm,” Eduardo replies, not bothered.

“You didn't fall asleep, did you? I don't actually know what time it is there, as we've well established.”

“No, I was just thinking. Since past me and past you were very obviously dumb, we should … meet up. Y'know, since we have the retrospect that they didn't, maybe we can be … less dumb.”

Mark feels his heart race. A sudden rush runs through him from the knowledge of opportunity. He's not going to make the same mistakes twice. He's older and wiser. He's not some kid who doesn't know how to convey his feelings. He's a grown-up, who still struggles with conveying his feelings, but tries anyway for the right people. And Wardo has always been the right people.

Besides, Mark owes it to himself.

“Yeah. We should do that. Soon,” He tells Eduardo.

“Okay,” Eduardo says softly. “Maybe you can even show me that video.”

“Past me suggested that actually. He said you'd get sappy about it.”

Eduardo laughs. “I probably will get sappy about it.”

“Well, I look forward to it,” Mark says, not wanting the conversation to end.

“Me too,” Eduardo says. “I'll call you at a more appropriate hour, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mark says. “Bye, Wardo.”

“Bye, Mark.”

They both linger on the line for a few seconds longer, then Eduardo ends the call. Mark puts his phone down and smiles at the screen, still with the last image of Mark awkwardly waving. He feels a certain gratitude wash over him. He wishes he could go back and thank himself. He'd thank himself for screwing up, for giving him the opportunity to grown into some one better, and for reminding him of what's really in his heart.

He can't necessarily thank himself now, but he has an idea.

Feeling inspired, Mark turns on his webcam and hits record.

“First of all, if you've chickened out a second time, I _will_ kill you. And I can do that, because I'm you. And second, if I haven't chickened out, and if I've worked for this to get where you are, and if you're happy with Wardo the way you would have been all those years ago if you weren't such a dumbass, then … _you're welcome._ ”


End file.
